Simple
by WinterWhite Rose
Summary: ALW based, set right after the end of the musical. Christine loves Raoul, but is conflicted over Erik's death and her feelings for him. What happens when Raoul finds out? And what will she do about it?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Ok well I hope you all like this. I haven't written any fanfiction in a while, but I got very inspired for this story. And as usual, I don't own anything, no matter how much I wish I did. Also I'd love some reviews on this to see if you like it ( or hate it) :) all responses are appreciated.

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It should have been the easiest choice I've ever made. Raoul was handsome, wealthy, and loved me dearly. He was the choice I was expected to make. He was exactly what any girl wanted to marry. So I had fled the underground lair, fled the entire opera house, and even the city of Paris to stay in Raoul's country house. I had been there two weeks and I was content.

Raoul was wonderful and kind, he had treated me like a princess since we had arrived. He had given me a wonderful room with a spectacular view of his gardens. There was a little fountain with a stone angel that I could see from my window; the gentle sound of falling water was soothing to my strained nerves. I would often sit by the window and read, or write and just listen to the water.

But mostly I was just growing bored here. There were no other guests staying with Raoul at this time, and no other family that was here either. The number of servants was limited as well, so they had very little time to sit and chat with me as they had other duties and chores to accomplish.

Raoul seemed to be continually busy with something after the first few days. He was always saying he had work to do, but what this work entailed was beyond me. I longed to have work to do as well. I had never been this bored in all my life. At the opera house we were always rehearsing, or taking a dance technique class, or practicing my music. And when one of these things failed to be taking up all of my time girls who were my friends surrounded me and we would talk and laugh, go to a café and flirt shamelessly with some young poet or another. My hours were filled with laughter, joy, and passion.

At dinner one night I spoke with Raoul about my weariness with the country and he suggested I take up ridding the horses in the stables. I found one very sweet horse, Chloe. She had a glossy brown coat and a black tail and was quickly becoming my closest friend in the country. I would ride her every day, exploring the area around the estate, but never traveling too far for fear of getting lost. But I had nothing to fear; Chloe was very intelligent and always knew the way back. But Chloe could only satisfy me temporarily. She was a wonderful creature, but she could in no way complete my life.

It only took a short time before Raoul and I started to fight, bickering about the smallest of things, and that escalated into much larger fights. We fought about staying in the country, I wanted desperately to go back to the city, but Raoul simply wouldn't have it. We fought about Raoul's increasing advances. His kisses grew more and more needy – and he would argue that our wedding was fast approaching, what harm would it do to go a little bit further? I of course argued for my purities sake, but I had another, hidden reason. While I loved Raoul dearly, I never felt anything exciting from his kisses, no excitement. I hoped this would change after our wedding night, but till this point I simply didn't desire him in that way.

I couldn't understand why I didn't; Raoul was very attractive, any other girl would have been mad about him. Actually, I can understand it. I had very briefly tasted something much more intense and terrifying and completely thrilling. I couldn't help but think about it, couldn't help but think about those few stolen caresses. They drove me wild when I would least expect it. Those images would spring to mind when Raoul's advances grew more amorous. I would press my hands against his chest and push him away, babbling some nonsense about Christian purity. I was flushed and heated, feeling myself desperate for some kind of release from all the tension building up inside me. Raoul had never elicited this kind of response from me. I sighed and went to the window, closed my eyes and left the night breeze waft across my face.

I missed him. I missed him terribly. He had been such a big part of my life for so long – and now he was just gone. He probably wasn't even alive though. All the papers had said as much. "Opera Ghost Dead". I remember reading that the day we left Paris. I had to hide my tears from Raoul because he spent most of the journey glowing from reading the same headlines. I couldn't bear to let him see how saddened I was by Erik's death; I loved him too much for that.

This was supposed to be so easy. I was supposed to be completely contented here with Raoul, but I still had this nagging uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. It was supposed to be so simple – and yet, it wasn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Well so far so good - here's chapter two! as always i own none of the characters I'm just taking them out to play :) I hope you are enjoying this. I'd love to hear what you think!

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Chapter 2

One night at dinner Raoul mentioned he had business to attend to else where for the week. He clearly explained what it was, but I had lost interest in his business affairs. An idea had been brewing in the back of my mind for a while now and I realized that this would be my chance to make it happen. That's when I asked him. "Raoul? Since you will be gone all week, may I take one of the carriages and go into Paris? I would love to see Meg and Madam Giry again. Please Raoul?"

Raoul protested at first, exclaiming that there would still be too much chaos around the opera house. But I assured him that I would stay far away from there. I hated lying to him, but under no circumstances would I stay away from my former beloved home.

I left two days later, carrying just enough to last my time there. I told the driver to get us to Paris as quickly as possible, so we left early in the morning, and arrived very late in the night. I set myself up in Raoul's flat and soon retired, I had a very busy day planned.

The next morning I called at Meg's flat, where she lived with her mother and was greeted very warmly with Meg's bouncing curls as she drug me inside with her and pressed a cup of tea into my hands. It was just barely cool enough outside for the tea to be a welcome surprise. The tree branches that scrapped against the window just had their first little green leaves sprouting.

Meg was delightful. I had missed her so much. She prattled on about everything she had been doing the past month. She talked about the new dance classes she was taking and the job she had just gotten working as a waitress at a little café. She got a glow in her eyes when she started talking about one of the men who came into the café and would only sit in her section and flirted with her. Apparently they were to have dinner in a couple of days. I was excited for her. I wished I had as much to say as she did, but I answered all of her questions though. That's when the conversation turned around to the last night I had seen her, the opening night of Don Juan. She asked me questions about what had happened to me while I was down there, and though some of the answers were difficult to re-tell I went through the whole story for her. So of course I had to ask her what had happened after I had left. I had no idea she had been with the group to go down after me.

"I read what the papers said – Was he," I felt a little lump in my throat, " Was he already – dead – when you got there?"

"Oh Christine!" Meg gushed, reaching out and grabbing my hands, " The papers only wrote that because they were trying to keep people calm. No one likes the idea of a madman running free."

"You mean – he escaped?"

"Well – you see it's tricky. I was the one who found him. He was sitting on his chair underneath his cloak. So I grabbed the cloak and pulled it off of him," Meg sounded very pleased with her bravery, "But he wasn't there! He had completely disappeared. He was all gone."

I simply didn't know what to say. I clasped my hand to my mouth to hide my gaping mouth.

"Well not all gone. Hold on. I have something for you." Meg moved to the dresser on the far side of the little room. After riffling through some of her clothes there she turned around and told me to close me eyes. Confused, I obliged. In a moment I felt something cool and smooth being pressed into my hands. It felt familiar. I opened my eyes quickly, sure that my hands were surely deceiving me.

But I was right. Here in my hands was the white mask I so vividly remembered covering half of the face of my angel. My hands shook a little as I caressed the surface. I could almost imagine caressing his face.

"Oh Meg," I cried and I pulled her into a tight hug. I could barely whisper a thank you to her, but I know she heard it.

I left Meg's much better for wear.


	3. Chapter 3

**okey dokeies! Here is chapter 3. Also I'd like to give a special thanks to ShoMiyagi for being my first reviewer! Hope you like this one, and as usual I don't own any of the characters, I'm just taking them out to play. :)**

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Chapter 3

Much later that evening, after a wonderful day reacquainting myself with my much beloved city, I prepared myself for an evening out. I took special care washing my face and combing my hair and piling half of it on top of my head, away from my face. I pinched my cheeks to give them a little more flush, and put the smallest dab of rouge on my lips. I wanted to look perfect tonight.

I took a dress out of my closet. It was a deep blue that looked black in the dark. The bodice was tightly fitted and had a row of buttons and lace down the front. The skirt was full and flared dramatically away from my hips, just barely grazing the floor. I pulled a pair of black boots, with little buttons up the side. The finishing touch was a black cape, with a full hood that I draped about my face.

I had packed a small bag with a few trinkets to carry with me and I decided to add the mask Meg had given me earlier to this bag. I pulled the silken drawstring chords shut on the bag.

I looked in the mirror before I went out. I hadn't put this much effort into my appearance in the country and I was quite pleased with the results. Tonight would be a good night, I felt quite sure. I hurried down the stairs of the apartment building. I had already called for the carriage and it was waiting outside. It wasn't until I climbed inside and we were on our way that my nerves finally hit me. I felt a little bundle in my stomach tighten up and clench into a knot. I worried on my bottom lip a little as I watched the streetlights passing by. The carriage came to a short stop before I even realized it. We were here. The driver helped me alight from the carriage.

It was exactly as I remembered it. The opera house had been my home for eight years, and while it was mostly deserted now, it still seemed full of life. I had no real idea of what to expect inside. Meg had told me how all production had ceased for the time being, to repair some of the damages done to the building, as well as to give the public time to recover from the shock before opening the doors again. It would have been unrealistic for the managers to keep the doors open. No one would have come to an opera house where the madman had died.

I followed the familiar paths I had traveled so many times before. I first went to the stage. And the thought briefly crossed my mind to sing a little bit on the stage, but somehow I felt it would only sully my purpose in being here.

My dressing room looked exactly the same, everything from the rose wallpaper to the dressing screen and a little silver hand mirror I used to use to look at my hair from the back. It was completely surreal to see everything the way I had left it. But I hadn't forgotten my purpose here. I went to the long mirror on the wall and unhooked the latch that kept it closed. I slipped down the dark passage. There were no lights that light the passage and I hadn't thought to bring anything with me. I stepped back out into the dressing room. There was a single candle on the dresser and matches in the drawer. This would have to do for now.

I took my candle with me, holding it out high in front of me to light the corridors as best I could. The passages were familiar and I didn't have to struggle too much to remember which ways to go. It grew colder and colder the further down I climbed. Little goose bumps popped up on my arms. It wasn't much further now.

I saw the little boat on the lake in front of me and I practically ran to it. It took a little while to figure out how to get myself moving steadily forward with it. It took me longer than I remembered to push my way to Erik's home. My arms ached like I had never felt before, burning something terrible.

It was dark up ahead, but I had lit the lantern on the front of the boat. I could see the opening to Erik's home. The gate was down, and the boat bumped against it softly. I looked all around, but couldn't see any kind of lever or chord to pull to open it. I felt I would have to either give up, or climb under, and neither option was exciting. But I remembered Erik hadn't pulled any lever when we went here together. I thought for a few more moments and decided to try pressing on the floor with the pole used for pushing the boat. I hoped to find something that would trigger the gate to open. I supposed I must be very lucky because I did find just such a trigger and the gate creaked to life before me.

I steered the boat into the docking area and stepped out. Lighting a few of the candelabras helped breath a little light in the darkened room. I nearly cried out when I saw the state of the place. Sheet music was everywhere, curtains were ripped and torn and singed from fire, many of the organ keys were broken, and the place had been destroyed. It broke my heart to see what they had done to my angel's haven.

Somehow I found myself picking up leafs of music from the floor. They were pages from Don Juan. Tears rolled down my cheeks and a sob escaped my mouth. I wiped at them with the back of my hand. Looking around the room I tried to find a good place to leave the trinkets I had to remember Erik by. I spotted the throne like chair and decided that would have to suffice.

I took out of my little bag a sheet of music; it had been the first aria I had ever worked on in my lessons with Erik. I had also brought a white rose with me. Erik always left me the most beautiful red roses. I had also written a short letter to him, telling him how much he had meant to me. I knew he would never read it, but it didn't matter. In some corner of my mind I believed that if anyone could know what was being left for him after they had died it would be Erik.

I took an extra moment to caress the mask one last time. I glanced around, despite being completely alone, and kissed the cheek of the mask before I left it on top of the rest of the pile. I wiped another stray tear from my face before I turned and walked back to the boat. I had accomplished what I had come here to do. I stopped one last time, tempted to turn around but stopping myself.

"Goodbye Erik" I whispered. Then something stopped me in my tracks and made my heartbeat speed up. I could have sworn I had just heard – oh god and then I heard it again. My name sung on the voice of my angel. I looked around wildly, thinking I must be loosing my mind. But no. There next to the chair stood a vision I never thought to see again. My angel in his white mask and black cape and looking as astounded as I must be. I wanted to run to him, but my feet were frozen in place. And then he spoke again.

"Christine?" And I was throwing my arms around him before I knew what I was doing.


End file.
